


Simple Cure

by still_lycoris



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is clearly something wrong with Avon after he returns from a mission and Blake needs to try and help him - if Avon will let himself be helped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Cure

Blake had an idea that something had gone wrong with the mission, although he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

Nothing had _obviously_ gone wrong. Avon and Vila had returned alive and unharmed, everything they had said sounded as though things had worked out the way Blake had hoped they would. 

And yet something was nagging at him. Avon had looked oddly flushed and not quite himself, refusing to meet Blake’s eyes and disappearing to his room immediately afterwards. Vila was quieter than usual and fidgeting almost constantly, tapping his fingers and jerking his knee. Maybe that was why Blake was uneasy; he was just irritated by Vila’s constant movement. It didn’t look guilty though. Just … peculiar.

“Vila, what is the matter with you?” He was glad that it was Jenna that asked, not him. 

“Nothing!” Vila said, sounding guilty. “I mean … well … don’t you think it’s bit … hot in here?”

“Temperature seems normal to me,” Gan said. “You do look a bit … odd though. Did you touch anything you shouldn’t have down there?”

“Of course not!” Now Vila was sounding insulted, as though he never ever would dream of doing anything so stupid. Usually, this was followed by a confession of some wrong-doing so Blake wasn’t at all surprised when Vila added “Mind you, there was that silver stuff … ”

“ _What_ silver stuff?” Blake said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. Trust Vila to manage to find the just one thing that would get them all in trouble. 

“It was on one of the trees,” Vila said. “Sort of like a powdery snow. Came down with a terrible bang, right on top of us. I didn’t get nearly as much as Avon, it was quite funny really. He threatened me with immediate pain if I laughed at him, we brushed it off … didn’t seem very important at the time.”

Blake frowned. Silvery stuff? Could it have been poisonous? The thought had clearly occurred to Vila, he was checking his pulse anxiously and looking at the others for some sort of confirmation that he wasn’t going to drop dead in the next minute.

“Zen?” Jenna asked. “Do you know what that might have been?”

There was a slight pause and then Zen spoke in the usual, completely calm tone.

“They have been sprinkled with Thyros Dust. It is not common on any other planet except that one but the effects are well documented.”

“What effects?!” Vila practically shrieked.

Zen obligingly began a long list of effects, which seemed to start with mild discomfort and restlessness, followed by irrationality and various other things before progressing to high fever and death. Vila had turned pale at the mild discomfort level and looked positively grey before they got anywhere close to the death part.

“What can we do?” Blake asked before Vila could begin to panic.

“The only known cure is sexual intercourse before Stage Four.”

Cally apparently choked on thin air. Gan simply burst out laughing. Vila turned from grey to a slight pink.

“Oh. Well. Which stage am I in?”

“You currently display Stage 2 characteristics of infection.”

“Oh well,” Vila said, sounding much, much happier now. “As long as it’s curable!”

“You assume one of us will volunteer,” Cally remarked, clearly trying to sound like she wasn’t laughing.

“Now, hang on! It can’t be that bad! You wouldn’t let me die when you could so easily save my life!”

“I don’t know,” Gan said, shaking his head. “It is a lot to ask … ”

“Not really! It’s only a little – ”

Vila stopped quickly, probably realising that anything that he said would be a mistake but it was too late, Gan and Cally were both laughing uproariously. Blake wasn’t, although part of him hoped he would be later when this was all behind them. He looked at Jenna, who wasn’t laughing either. They had clearly both had the same thought.

According to Vila’s story, Avon had received the brunt of the stuff. If Vila was infected, Avon undoubtedly was. And if Vila was right and more of it had fallen on him, it was likely Avon was in a far worse state.

And Avon would not be finding this funny _at all_.

He left the room quietly, fully aware that he didn’t need to worry about Vila. Gan and Cally would tease him for a while but neither of them would let it go too far before one of them took Vila off and sorted him out. Jenna followed him quietly.

“He won’t be happy about this,” she warned, as though Blake hadn’t thought of that himself.

“I know. But he’s practical, he’ll accept it.”

“I’m not so sure,” Jenna said, frowning. “He likes to be in control and this is the very opposite of that, you know.”

Blake knew. He wasn’t absolutely certain he could imagine Avon having sex under normal circumstances. He’d seem him flirt … well, sort of. Probably. It _might_ have been flirting. It was a bit difficult to tell with Avon. The idea of him achieving physical intimacy though, that was almost impossible to picture. Avon jut … didn’t seem the type.

Avon’s door was very firmly shut. Jenna stepped forward and knocked on it gently.

“Avon?”

There was no response until she tried to open the door herself. She immediately ducked back as something hurtled at her head.

“Leave me alone!”

Avon’s voice was far shriller than Blake had ever heard it before. Jenna turned and looked at him uncertainly.

“Go back and make sure Cally and Gan aren’t trying to drive Vila insane,” Blake said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about this, I’ll sort it out.”

“Are you sure?” Jenna asked, looking a bit doubtful. Blake nodded his head, although he wasn’t absolutely. This was entirely possibly going to be a very unpleasant experience for everybody involved but he didn’t think it was fair to ask Jenna to take the brunt of it. He could handle Avon, he was sure of that. Better to do this himself.

Jenna touched his hand and then left. Blake waited until she was quite away before going and knocking on the door himself.

“Avon?”

“Leave me alone!”

“I’m coming in, Avon. We need to talk.”

He opened the door and stepped smartly aside, therefore avoiding whatever Avon threw at him. It crashed against the wall with a ringing smash and Blake darted into the room, closing the door behind him as he did and looking out for the next missile.

Avon did not look well. His face was flushed and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead that Blake wasn’t used to seeing. He glared at Blake furiously, hands clenched into fists. The usually immaculate room looked as though he’d been hurling things around even before Jenna and Blake had tried to come and speak to him. Zen had mentioned this sort of thing when talking about the symptoms. Irrationality. Disturbed state of mind.

“Get out!” Avon shouted at him. “How dare you come into my room? Get out!”

“We need to talk, Avon! You’re sick, or hadn’t you noticed?”

Not the right tack. Avon made a sound rather like a snarl and was clearly looking around for something else to throw. Blake sighed, not wanting to go and restrain him yet. It would only make things worse.

“Avon, that silvery stuff you and Vila got covered with was a type of poison. It’s making you ill, you have to – ”

“You think I don’t know that it’s making me ill? You think I don’t know what it’s doing to me?”

A shudder ran through his body and he stepped further back from Blake, apparently trying to wedge himself into the corner. Blake took a careful step forward, trying not to look as though he was crowding him.

“It’s curable, Avon. We can fix this.”

The glare Avon gave him was roasting. Blake took another step forward, trying to work out exactly how to broach the next part of the cure. Jenna was right, Avon was going to take this very badly indeed.

“What?” Avon snapped at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Blake swallowed.

“It’s sex, Avon. The cure is sex.”

Avon’s face went entirely blank which was almost reassuringly close to his usual expression. Something flickered in his eyes. Then he laughed, an unpleasant harsh sort of laugh.

“Get out.”

“Avon, don’t be ridiculous.”

He dodged some sort of computer tool that Avon hurled at his head. It slammed against the wall with another very loud thud. Blake hoped Avon wasn’t damaging anything too vital.

“Get out! Get out! I would rather die!”

“Oh for God’s sake!” Blake snapped. “Don’t be childish!”

Avon’s response was to reach for something else to throw and Blake jumped at him, grabbing at his wrists. He caught the left one but Avon managed to take a swing at him with the right, catching him on the shoulder and then on the side of the head.

“Let go of me! Let go! Get _out_!”

“Avon, stop hitting me!”

Avon did not stop trying to hit him. Blake clenched his teeth, trying to resist the urge to hit Avon back. The man was ill, the last thing that he needed was to actually get into a punch up with somebody, however aggravating he was being. He grabbed at Avon again, managing to catch hold of his elbow and hold him half-still.

“Avon, stop it, Avon, will you just _listen_ , just for once?!”

Avon tried to kick him away. His arm was shaking in Blake’s grip and Blake felt a stab of guilt that he was having such a fight with someone who was so clearly unwell. 

It was difficult to hold that in mind when Avon kicked him again, this time catching Blake right on the shin. 

“Go on then!” he snarled, his eyes sparkling with malice. “Go on, Blake, show you know better than me, do what you want, rape me, go on then!”

“Don’t be a fool, Avon!”

He faintly wondered as he said it if he would do that. If Avon continued to refuse, would it be the right thing to do to force him?

The idea made him feel sick. No, he couldn’t ever, ever do that. That wasn’t who he was, that wasn’t what he fought for. He had to make Avon see sense, that was the only option.

Of course, it was a bit difficult to reason with a man who was apparently determined to break your nose. Blake tightened his grip on Avon and slammed him against the wall. Avon snarled and kicked out again, this time managing to hook one leg around the back of Blake’s knee. He dragged it forward and Blake found them both tumbling onto the floor, only just missing cracking his head on a nearby table. He accidentally loosened his grip and Avon yanked one of his hands free, flailing slightly, as though he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do any more. He was panting hard and his eyes were glassy.

“Damn you!” he ground out, his voice shaking. “God damn you, Blake!”

“Avon – ” Blake began but before he could say anything else, Avon’s mouth had slammed down onto his in a vicious, painful kiss. Blake could feel his lower teeth digging agonisingly into his lip. He tried to pull back and Avon grabbed a handful of his hair, holding him still, still kissing furiously. After a moment, Blake released his grip on Avon’s other wrist and uncertainly put his hand on Avon’s hip. Avon didn’t try to move away. His furious kisses continued and he thrust his other hand under Blake’s top, scratching at Blake’s skin painfully. Blake tried not to hiss with pain, determined not to give Avon everything he wanted. If Avon wanted him to cry out, he was going to have to try harder than that.

Of course, the chances were that Avon would.

Avon suddenly left his mouth and ducked down, biting at Blake’s throat painfully. Blake ground his teeth and squeezed Avon’s hip as hard as he could. Avon jerked and Blake yanked his arm up, shoving his own hand up to claw at Avon’s skin. Avon made an odd noise and went back to biting, moving his way down to mouth at Blake’s shoulder, apparently unworried by the fact that Blake was still dressed. 

Blake didn’t speak. He knew that speaking would be a mistake. Ought he try to get Avon to take his clothes off? No, it probably wasn’t going to be that kind of encounter. He kept his hand on Avon’s hip and pushed slightly, implying that Avon might want to remove his trousers if they wanted to take this any further. Avon hissed and the hand that was still in Blake’s hair squeezed, finally dragging a yelp out him. Avon made a sound that was almost a laugh and Blake wondered if it would be particularly wrong to bite back. Probably.

He worked at removing his own trousers instead. It wasn’t easy. Avon didn’t seem willing to move away, he seemed content to remain pressed flush against Blake, nuzzling and scratching. It wouldn’t be enough though. Blake knew that it wouldn’t be enough.

“Avon – ” he risked and Avon hissed, obviously wanting Blake to stay silent. He moved a little though, lifting his hips slightly and giving Blake the chance to shove at first his trousers, then Avon’s. When he touched Avon’s bare skin, Avon made another noise and this time it was more like a gasp. Blake felt his fingers tighten again and this time, he grabbed back, digging his fingers into Avon’s sides. Avon gave another one of his snarls and his mouth returned to cover Blake’s, violent and furious. This time, Blake kissed back. It was more like a fight than anything else, lips and teeth clashing, and yet there was something about it, something that was sending a buzz through him and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to be enjoying this, not this way with blood in his mouth and Avon’s fingers scratching at any bit of skin they could reach.

And yet there was no turning back now, no time to think about what he was doing. He just had to do it, get on with what was happening and let it all wash over him until later. He continued the furious kissing, gasped when Avon reached his hand down and thrust it between his legs, rough and violent still but almost, almost something else, not as rough as he could have been perhaps, and the touch, that wasn’t unpleasant either and he could feel Avon pressed against his thigh and that wasn’t bad either, not as bad as he would have expected it to be – 

He realised that he ought to have thought more about preparation when Avon thrust a finger inside him. It was painful and he tried to yank back to order Avon to be careful but the moment their lips separated, Avon laughed, a slightly wild, uncaring noise and Blake was _damned_ if he was going to admit anything after that so he kissed Avon again just to shut him up and tried to brace himself for what was going to come next.

Like all the rest, it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. Avon seemed to gather a few final shards of control, apparently deciding that he didn’t want to tear into Blake utterly. He fumbled, then thrust and Blake saw stars and he must have made some sort of noise of pain because Avon laughed again, gripping his shoulders so tightly, drawing more blood. 

It was over quickly after that. Avon thrust and Blake clung and then Avon was crying out frantically and his fingers were scratching and then he was limp and trembling against Blake, his breath coming in heavy gasps. Blake lay still, trying to ignore the fact that he was still aroused, not wanting to touch himself while Avon was still shivering against him like this, not totally comfortable with the fact that he’d enjoyed this when Avon had barely been in control of himself.

“Feeling sanctimonious, Blake?” Avon’s murmur was drowsy, as though he was seeking bitterness that wouldn’t quite come. “How you suffer for your crew. And who is suffering for Vila’s sake? Gan, perhaps? Or maybe Cally will step up.”

“One of them will,” Blake said quietly. “I’m not feeling anything, Avon.”

“Liar. I can feel what you’re feeling. Enjoyed that, did you? Poor Blake. I’m sure you were hoping I would make it unpleasant for you.”

“You did,” Blake couldn’t help pointing out. “I don’t generally enjoy having my shoulders torn to shreds.”

Avon laughed but it was soft and sleepy. He seemed unable to keep himself awake and Blake guessed it was less to do with the sex and more to do with the poison leaving his system. He slowly sat up, gathering Avon in his arms and lifting him gently onto his bed. Avon didn’t resist. His eyes were closed now. He looked healthier already.

Blake carefully adjusted his clothes, then left the room, closing the door behind him. He didn’t know what Avon would feel when he woke up. He was clever, he’d see the sense, that Blake had saved his life – but he would resent that Blake had saved his life. And in such a way …

Blake shook his head. He had done what he’d had to do. He wouldn’t feel guilty about that.

But he couldn’t shake off the guilt that he’d liked it. That he should have made it clinical, somehow, stayed unemotional. Not become aroused. Not wished that Avon would touch him afterwards, not wish …

He shook his head. There was no point feeling any of this. He needed to go and reassure Jenna that he was still alive. He needed to make sure that Vila was okay. Avon could take care of himself and everything between them would probably go on as normal between them.

Whether Blake liked it or not.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2013 livejournal 12dayschrismtas challenge.


End file.
